I’m the first on the ice and doing warm ups helps bring me back to the zone. As I fly between the cones, guiding my stick exactly where I want it to go, I remind myself of why I’m here.
Hockey is the love of my life.
My passion.
Myreason.
The drama behind the scenes doesn’t matter. As long as I’m out here, on the ice, making myself and my team proud, I can handle anything they throw at me.
Everyone slowly fills in beside me and Coach runs us through drills from hell until we’re sweating buckets.
The Lucky Strikers are looking to hit the league qualifiers and they have specific qualities in mind. I heard they tanked most of the legacy team to make room for fresh blood. However, doing drills all the time instead of playing the game can get tiring. So when Coach rewards us with an end-of-practice scrimmage everyone lets out a cheer!
“Finally, we get our hands dirty,” someone says.
I nod and grin in agreement.
“You’re with me, Campbell,” Kinsey says, pointing from across the ice.
I give him a thumbs-up with my gloved hand.
Coach blows the whistle and I take off across the ice.
The scrimmage has that loose, end-of-practice energy and the moment the puck drops, I know this is going to get dirty.
Kinsey passes to me and I cut down on the left side, aiming to pass it quickly. But I’m the only one thinking of sharing the puck. The rest of my teammates are greedy with it and the little black disc never returns to me.
Our team takes the shot.
Laughter breaks out when number six not only misses completely, but nearly eats ice.
The puck falls into our opponents’ possession.
We’re on defense.
Up ahead, there’s movement in the bleachers. It’s the team manager. He’s a giant, building of a man, so it’s pretty hard to miss him and he’s standing with someone from admin, pointing to his clipboard.
That darn clipboard…
A fire burns in my heart.
A switch flips in my brain.
This scrimmage is no longer a friendly one. I go after the puck at full throttle, my stick extended. With an expert flip of my wrist, I commandeer the puck away and make a quick turn.
At that very moment, my opponent lunges.
Our skates tangle for half a heartbeat and the ice rips from under me. I spread my hands out to block my fall, but my opponent falls on top of me.
Right on top of my leg.
The breath knocks right out of me, but apart from that I’m fine.
Unfortunately, the trainee who collided with me seems to think he bludgeoned my limb.
“Oh no. Oh no! Man, are you okay? Campbell?”
The game screeches to a stop.
